


An Alliance of Fire and Night

by highfae_of_writing



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Crossover, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multiple Perspectives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22913986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highfae_of_writing/pseuds/highfae_of_writing
Summary: It has been sixty years since the War against Erawan and Maeve. Aelin and her court still enjoy a time of peace and prosperity, but portals from another realm have started appearing all over Terrasen. Aelin fears the self-proclaimed gods she damned all those years ago are coming to exact their revenge, but she gets help from an unlikely source - and some familiar faces.~The Court of Dreams has known nothing but prosperity since the War with Hybern, some eighty years ago. Feyre and Rhys have had two heirs; Cassian and Nesta quashed an Illyrian rebellion, and now preside over Illyria; Mor has found her love in Emerie; and Azriel and Elain begin to plan their future together. Everything is as it should be - until sightings of unknown portals begin in Prythian. With the portals bring nightmarish beasts, and something more.Set sixty years after Kingdom of Ash, and eighty years after A Court of Wings and Ruin, I present an alliance of fire and night that could rattle the stars.
Relationships: Aedion Ashryver/Lysandra, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn, Amren/Varian (ACoTaR), Chaol Westfall/Yrene, Elain Archeron/Azriel, Elide Lochan/Lorcan Salvaterre, Emerie/Morrigan (ACoTaR), Fenrys (Throne of Glass)/Original Character(s), Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Manon Blackbeak/Dorian Havilliard, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 16
Kudos: 128





	1. Character Index

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so excited to finally be able to start putting this story out and having people read it. This is a story I've had bouncing around in my head before even Kingdom of Ash came out. I’m hoping for it to be a longer fic, so stay tuned!
> 
> As for updates, I’m going to try to get new chapters up every week, if not sooner. I don’t live on my computer, nor do I always have the motivation or inspiration to write, so please have patience. Sometimes it will be longer than a week before I update.
> 
> Thank you all for your understanding, and happy reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An index for the names of characters and OCs I plan on introducing. I'll update it over time to avoid spoilers. ;)

** Throne of Glass **

Lydia

  * Chaol and Yrene's daughter
  * 59 years old



Soran

  * Lydia's son
  * Chaol and Yrene's grandson
  * 19 years old



Xander

  * Chaol and Yrene’s son
  * 55 years old



Asterin and Rhiannon

  * Dorian and Manon’s twin girls
  * 50 years old, immortal



Marion

  * Lorcan and Elide’s oldest daughter
  * 56 years old, immortal



Maddock

  * Lorcan and Elide’s son
  * 51 years old, immortal



Tainon

  * Lorcan and Elide’s youngest daughter
  * 44 years old, immortal



Gavriella

  * Aedion and Lysandra’s daughter
  * 5 years old



**A Court of Thorns and Roses**

Leirus

  * Rhys and Feyre's son
  * 70 years old



Demetra

  * Rhys and Feyre's daughter
  * 60 years old




	2. Rifts & Portals

**_Aelin_ **

Aelin Galathynius sat with her eyes closed in the gardens of her castle; her face was upturned to the rain. It ran down her forehead to pool in the corner of her eyes, then fall down her cheeks like tears. The queen was not sad, however, and when she got sick of the droplets, she would lift the water from her face with that kernel of water magic and flick it away.

It was a joyous day despite all that was going on and all she had to do. It was her and Rowan’s sixtieth wedding anniversary, and also the day they celebrated winning the war against Erawan and Maeve. It hadn’t been an easy road, and many rules were broken. Elena had defied those self-proclaimed gods all those years ago, so she had as well.

But that was a thought for later. Her mate was away hunting with the rest of the cadre while Lysandra planned the festivities. The rain had been unexpected but manageable. The ballroom in the Palace of Orynth was more than accommodating for the guests that would arrive, and Manon would arrive with her witchlings soon.

 _Not witchlings anymore_ , Aelin reminded herself. The Crochan and Crown Princesses of Adarlan, Asterin and Rhiannon, were approaching fifty years old. Gods, Aelin couldn’t believe she was almost eighty herself. Perhaps immortality would never fully sit right with her. Especially since she’s seen so many comrades - no, _family_ \- die over the years. Sam, Nehemia, Elide, Lorcan, Chaol, Yrene, Dorian, and so many more that worked to help her in the war.

Part of Aelin always hoped that her little group would live forever, but not everyone is blessed with immortality. Elide may have had witch blood in her veins, but it wasn’t enough to make her Settle. Lorcan had tied his life to hers, and they both passed from old age in the same year, four summers ago. Elide passed first, and Aelin truly believed that Lorcan died of a broken heart. The idea originally made her laugh, considering how cold the bastard once was.

Chaol and Yrene were only mortal. Yrene was the best healer both Adarlan and Terrasen had ever seen after Mab; and Lydia - Chaol and Yrene’s daughter - was doing her mother proud by carrying on her legacy. She even taught her son his grandmother’s magics. Chaol was a tough son of a bitch, Aelin knew for sure, and one of the best friends she ever had despite their rocky history. They both died peacefully in their sleep, slipping into the afterlife together because of their bond. Something, Aelin realized sometime later, she was grateful for. There was a time when she didn’t think any of them – regardless if they were fae or human – would see old age.

Dorian had been one of the hardest to come to terms with. Aelin had thought for sure he would Settle since he was Mala’s scion just as much as she was. But as time went on, there were no tell-tale signs of Settling, and his hair began to turn gray. Manon had become with child when Dorian was thirty, and he was able to give his daughters a full life before he passed just last year. Aelin teared up just remembering the last time she had seen him – so frail and delicate in old age despite still having the spark of the friend she always knew. He had been a good King of Adarlan and rebuilt his country’s legacy after his father destroyed it. When he finally passed from difficulties of illness, it had been a difficult time for everyone, but Manon took it the hardest.

The Crochan Queen went into recession, and only brief letters from her daughters gave peace of mind that the White Witch was alright. This celebration would be the first time since Dorian’s death that Aelin would talk to Manon or the witchlings in person. And she was honestly anticipating it. She admitted to herself often that she missed her ally and friend.

A sigh heaved Aelin’s shoulders at the same moment a pine-and-snow-scented breeze disturbed the rain. It was a different scent from Terrasen’s; something _alive_ tethered it to her mate, as true as an actual rope. Aelin could follow that smell for miles and know Rowan would be waiting for her at the end of it.

The breeze seemed to say, _Why are you sad, Fireheart?_

Aelin tried to shake her mood off and changing the subject by sending a wave of heat dancing with sparks along that invisible rope in answer. _I must truly be irresistible if you’re thinking of me even when hunting beings from the Rift._

 _You’re always on my mind, milady._ That answering breeze had more of an icy bite to it, but Aelin blushed as she remembered the truly _depraved_ things they did last night. They never needed an occasion to fuck each other until the early hours of morning, but there was something different when their anniversary came. Like a deep instinct that beckoned their bodies together.

 _I’m sure_ , Aelin sent back with flame instead of sparks, _I’m surprised you can even walk._

Aelin could practically hear Rowan’s chuckle on the wind, as if he carried it directly to her. _I should be saying that to you._

Indeed, Aelin closed her legs tighter together, and the hickeys on the inside of her thighs slightly throbbed. They were healing, but still prominent. They had been sore enough this morning that she opted to wear a flowing gown instead of a tunic and pants. Damn her king. Her wonderful lover of a mate.

Unable to help herself, she sent a bone-warming stream along the rope. A gentle, suggestive caress. _Perhaps we can fit in a round two before the party tonight_.

 _Oh no, my queen_ , Rowan replied instantly, _With the things I want to do to you, I’ll need much longer than an hour_. The wind he sent with that particular comment had her breasts tightening.

 _Fine, King_ , Aelin said back, that mated tether singing with heat and ice, _I’ll be waiting here planning the party with Lysandra and the others_. And though she was known for her sass and snark, after a heartbeat, the Heir of Fire sent another soothing flame down the bond. _Be safe and return to me in one piece._

 _Always, Fireheart._ Then the bond went silent.

It was likely almost noon, so the queen figured she should at least check on the progress of things. Hesitantly, Aelin rose from her spot and peered over her kingdom. Finally healing, it seemed, and the Kingsflame was still in full bloom even after all this time – showing the safety and prosperity her rule promised. It warmed her heart, and she could only hope that her uncle and her parents were proud of all that she had accomplished. She felt proud of herself, at least, given everything she had been through and everything she had sacrificed to get here.

Finally pulling herself from her thoughts, the queen made her way to the ballroom. As she traversed the palace, noises from the planning became louder. The union of their King and Queen was something all of Orynth celebrated. The night was celebrated as a liberation from darkness and a promise for a brighter future. It has already become a tradition that carried through a generation. Initially, people had even tried to bring gifts, but Aelin refused them after so long. She was grateful, but she wanted her people to care for themselves before her. Merciful and caring, but a leader, nonetheless.

Aelin finally reached the ballroom where most of the planning and decorating was occurring. She couldn’t spot Lysandra, but she knew the shifter was in here.

“Your Majesty!” A familiar voice called. Aelin’s head snapped to see a small, plump woman waving her hand at her. She couldn’t help but smile and stifle a giggle.

“Hi Loralei,” Aelin greeted as the woman approached, “Did you need help with anything?” The queen honestly hated talking so formally, but she felt it odd to speak otherwise outside of her inner circle of family. Even though this woman may as well be her best friend with how many escapades she’s made to the kitchen for a late-night snack when Rowan was fast asleep. Though, she’d never tell Lysandra that.

“Not so much help as a confirmation,” Loralei said, “I pride myself in knowing your favorite foods at this point, but I just thought I would make sure.” The cook listed off the menu for the night, which only made Aelin’s near empty stomach gurgle. Gods, she was starving and hadn’t realized. Loralei could probably tell and beckoned for the queen lower.

Aelin stooped enough for the woman to whisper in her ear: “There’s leftover cinnamon bread in the kitchen. I’m sure no one would notice if you slipped a piece over the fire with some butter.” Aelin stood and received a wink from the cook, which made her smile. She could kiss this woman. Woman – a funny word to describe the girl Aelin had seen grow up from the time she was born, to then take her father’s place as the palace’s head cook.

“Thank you,” Aelin replied at last, “Everything sounds great. Just tell Rowan and the rest of those vultures that the hazelnut cake is reserved for the ladies.” They both shared a friendly laugh, then the cook was off to start and finish her duties. Aelin was off to find Lysandra.

* * *

**_Feyre_ **

“Is there any news?”

The Inner Circle gathered in the House of Wind. Strange portals had started opening around Prythian, letting beasts as foul as the Attor back into the land. It wasn’t anything Rhys or the Inner Circle or even I couldn’t handle, but it was concerning. Cauldron knows what else may come out.

“None,” Amren said as she studied all of our faces, “From any of the other High Lords anyway. The rifts aren’t becoming more frequent, but they aren’t slowing down either. As for the Shadowsinger – he, Nesta, and the other Heir of Night are still dealing with a rift that was sighted near Illyria.”

The news wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst. I didn’t particularly like that Demetra was with them, but she was sixty years old this year – long since becoming a woman. As for the portals…Manageable. It was manageable for now. I just had to remind myself of that.

“Have you consulted the Book?” Rhys asked without missing a beat. Amren’s sharp eyes snapped to him. They were a dull gray color now, but her years alone held the power she needed to make anyone cower.

“I read that book cover to cover eighty years ago. Anything I can get out of it, I did when we fought Hybern.”

“That means there’s more,” Leirus spoke, “You read everything you could, which implies there is something you couldn’t.” Everyone’s attention was on him, but he did not balk – even from Amren. Something I’m sure he learned from his father, though he was probably just as nervous as the rest of us.

“Yes, Heir, there is more,” Amren admitted as she crossed her arms, “The rest of the text is in a language even older than me.”

Older than Amren – the only person we had that could remotely understand any ancient or otherworldly texts we encountered.

“There has to be someone,” I chimed in, “A historian, a librarian, _someone_ who has the ability to read it.”

“Perhaps in the Prison, or maybe even Bryaxis, but none have interacted with him since the War,” Rhys said, and it went quiet for a moment. It was left unsaid, but I know at least Rhys thought of the Bone Carver or the Weaver – Stryga as she was named. But they were truly lost in the War. Bryaxis had merely taken an extended vacation it seemed.

“What if Bryaxis is the cause of the portals?” Leirus suggested. Cassian seemed to consider it for a moment but stayed silent.

“It’s possible, but the portals are appearing all over Prythian,” Rhys pointed to the blots of dark ink on a map where we had marked portal sightings, “If it were him – or one person – I would think that they would appear in a consistent location.”

“Unless he – or whoever – is doing this isn’t trying to open a portal to their home world, like we thought, but to bring something to us.” By the Mother, I saw so much of Rhys in our son. Not only from his appearance, but from the way he talked and took lead in trying times. It made me proud as his mother, but I worried all the same.

The Inner Circle contemplated his suggestion with true possibility. He did have a point, but –

“Who would do that?” Mor asked what we were all thinking. And none of us knew. Unless a Hybern sympathizer was trying to spark a resurgence, there was no one we knew of who would ruin this time of peace.

Before more discussion could be had, the doors opened. Azriel, along with Nesta and Demetra, walked in. Their gates were tense – as one would be after a battle – but not urgent.

“How did it go?” I was the one to ask. Still, Cassian said nothing.

“The same as usual,” Demetra answered, “The portal was already closed by the time we got there, but the beasts were still in the area. Our shadows were able to scout them all out, and we exterminated them.”

 _Manageable_ , I heard in my mind. I looked to Rhys and his eyes softened, and I gave him a grateful smile.

 _But for how long?_ I didn’t have to ask it – everyone was already thinking it.

“None of them can – or would – talk,” Nesta added, “When interrogated, they only growled or made other animal noises. So, I doubt they’re intelligent beyond the desire to kill.” Azriel didn’t need to speak his confirmation, we all saw it in his face.

It went quiet again. Then: “What if we went into one? A portal, I mean.”

All of us visibly recoiled as Cassian made the suggestion. “Are you an idiot?” Amren demanded, “We speak of not even being able to understand their origins, but you want to walk into one without second thoughts?”

All of us seemed to be in agreeance. It would be suicidal to go through one of the portals with no understanding of them.

“Look, I know it’s not the best idea –”

“It isn’t an idea at all,” Mor snapped.

“ _But_ ,” Cassian continued after giving the blonde female a pointed look, “I’ve been thinking that the portals aren’t coming from someone in Prythian at all. Beings from other worlds have been coming to Prythian for eons. Think of the Bone Carver, Bryaxis – hell, even Amren.”

“And look at those of us you mentioned,” the Second practically growled, “We were stuck here, never to return to our worlds because we did not know a way.”

“Besides,” this time, to my surprise, it was Azriel who spoke, “Even if we knew a way back, what good would going through one of the rifts do?”

“It could take the fight to whoever is causing this.” Cassian sounded sure – almost too sure. I caught Rhys’s eyes with my own, and they mirrored my concern.

“It isn’t an option. At least right now,” Rhys said. I couldn’t help the sinking in my stomach at the words _right now_. Like the suicide mission could be a possibility later on. “If we could find a way to open a portal home, then it’s a possibility. But for now, we deal with what is happening here. We protect our lands and people.”

We all looked to Cassian, and he nodded his understanding, thank the Mother. I felt the whole room relax just a bit more.

“Good,” Rhys continued, “Amren, continue with the Book. Have Elain help you search the library, as well.”

“I’ll help as well,” Leirus added, earning an acknowledging nod from Rhys.

“Azriel and Demetra: stay on portal duty. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to have your shadows out scouting.” A nod from our daughter and Azriel.

“Mor, if you could act as an ambassador for us. Just go to the other courts and see if you can find out anything more from the other High Lords. Try to access any archives they may have.” Mor nodded.

“The rest of us will act as protection. Nesta, if you could go back to Illyria and watch over things there – Feyre, Cassian, and I will handle here and anywhere else on the continent that needs help.”

With all of our duties assigned, the Inner Circle dispersed, leaving Rhys and I alone in the room. “Everyone seemed so quiet and grim. I don’t like it,” I admitted as I brought my arms around myself. I never like seeing my family so serious, especially Mor and Cassian. And for Cassian to suggest such a ludicrous idea…

“They’re all just tense, darling,” Rhys said. I felt a caress of night in my mind, settling my reeling thoughts, “We all are. But I promise it will sort out.”

I nodded this time, something I noticed a lot of during the meeting. None of us have anything left to say, I suppose, as we all knew the general problem. The portals started appearing months ago, and the beasts that came with them wrought havoc on anything they came in contact with. They were foul and vile creatures – a darkness that was near indescribable.

“You’re still thinking too much, my love,” Rhys said softly. His hands cupped my face, and I couldn’t help but to relax with him this close to me.

“How can I not? Our Court and our family are in danger.” I thought of our children, but Rhys already knew.

“Leirus and Demetra are young in terms of Fae, yes. But they are smart and powerful, just like all of us. We will still be here for them, just as they are here for us.”

I smiled and pressed my forehead to Rhys’s. “I know.”

Rhys tilted my head up and gave me a grin that still had my heart leaping, then he pressed his lips gently to mine. To soothe, not to arouse despite myself. Cauldron damn me. And Rhys knew, too, though he pulled away.

“Feyre, darling,” he teased, “Right now? In the middle of such turmoil on the continent?” I slapped his chest mockingly. He says that as if he didn’t have me screaming only last night. A wicked grin followed by a wink told me he knew exactly what I thought about. Bastard.

“You –” I didn’t get to finish my banter before a thundering _boom_ shook the mountain. All of Velaris, it seemed. It had Rhys and I separating immediately, and both of our clothes were replaced with Illyrian armor and steel blades.

Darkness filled the sky as a vortex started circling in the clouds. The darkness was coming from the center. A rift was forming right over Velaris.


	3. Celebration & Pandemonium

**_Aelin_ **

The queen observed her dress in the tall mirror at the corner of her room. If it’s one thing she has never grown tired of: it’s the lavish clothes at her disposal. She thought that years of living would bring the same fabrics and patterns, but each year there was something different. Even things of her own machinations.

Much to Rowan’s horror, Aelin wanted to make her own dress this year. She ended up having it made for her as she never took the time to learn how to sew, but that was besides the point. Her king’s horror was for the fabric she wanted it made of: spidersilk from the Stygian spiders.

Most of the wretched beasts had been killed in the War or hunted and slaughtered over the past few decades, but their nests remained in the Ruhnn mountains. And with them came the precious silk.

The journey was still perilous – as the mountains of Erilea were covered with snow year-round – but very few of those Valg spiders dared to show their faces. They were even less accommodating when the Heir of Fire knocked on their doors – full fire magic or no.

And Aelin couldn’t be happier with the dress, seeing it in its full glory. The dress itself was made of an ordinary silver silk that hugged her body, but the spidersilk draped off the skirt and her shoulders like a shimmering cape. With Mab’s crown atop her golden head, Aelin found herself wondering if she resembled her ancestor at all.

“By the Gods, woman. The only other person I know who admires themselves this much is Aedion. Or maybe Fenrys.” Aelin shot a mocking glare at Lysandra as she turned from her mirror.

The shifter leaned against the threshold of the queen’s room with a knowing smirk. Aelin turned back to her mirror and pretended to fix her hair. “I’m nearly eighty years old, I have to make sure there aren’t any wrinkles or gray hairs.” She felt more than saw Lysandra roll her eyes and a satisfied smile spread across Aelin’s face.

Immortal humor truly never got old. And she can very much remember the sighs of frustration when she told her court _that_ joke out loud.

The Heir of Fire brushed her hands once more down her skirt – admiring the soft yet sturdiness of the spidersilk – then turned towards the door. “Shall we then?” She asked.

Lysandra straightened and motioned for the queen to go first. As they walked, Lysandra commented, “You know, I was going to joke that I did actually see a gray hair, but then I knew you’d never leave that damned room.”

Aelin threw her head back in laughter, nearly sending her crown flying to the floor.

* * *

The Queen of Terrasen was announced to the room and everyone stood and cheered and hailed her as she made her way to the royal banquet table at the far end of the room. Her mate awaited her with the rest of the cadre – Aedion, Fenrys, and the Lochan children – as well as the visitors from Adarlan. Aelin could barely contain her excitement when she saw Manon and her two witchlings, along with Lydia and her son. Xander – Chaol and Yrene’s son – unfortunately couldn’t come from where he now ruled over Anielle.

Aelin stepped up to her chair at the center of the table. All eyes were on her – something she was used to feeling now. She reveled in their stares for a moment longer before the queen picked up a wine-filled goblet and raised it high. Everyone in the room followed suit.

“To the land of Terrasen! Long may we stand and know peace!” Aelin shouted. The room parroted her with more fervor.

“To another year of prosperity and healing and strength! May we have another!” Again, the room echoed her. She was washed in the love from her people, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

But her voice stayed strong as she looked over the room - smelling the pine and snow of her kingdom, as well as her mate - and made one final toast: “And to the people, who have stood by me and my court for years! May I be blessed with your support for more to come!”

Echoes and cheers were had before the room drank from their cups. Then it was Aedion who bellowed: “To the Queen and King of Terrasen! Long may they reign!”

The room became alight with shouts and whoops of praise.

_To the Queen and King!_ shouted over and over again. It had Aelin grasping her mate’s hand to ground her and keep her from crying. She looked to him and the matching crown of upswept wings she had made for him – to match Mab’s crown. He smiled – pure and genuine – and she knew he felt the love and appreciation, too.

So they basked in it and accepted the love from these people as they chanted for them, and even long after.

* * *

**_Feyre_ **

It was pure pandemonium.

Two portals opened over Velaris – one near the mountains, and one near the sea. Monsters poured from both and wreaked havoc on our people and city. It wasn’t as devastating as when Hybern had invaded us, but these… _things_ from the portal hadn’t stopped coming.

It took Cassian and Azriel using the power from their Syphons to create a field of magic around the portals that held the beasts at bay. Now the monsters gnashed and clawed at the blue and red – trying desperately to break through. And I knew then, just like with Hybern, their shields wouldn’t last.

Now, our family flew over Velaris – killing the beasts that had gotten through. Elain and Amren helped our people retreat to the library, while Mor winnowed to each Court, asking for any help from the other High Lords. Nesta helped Leirus guard the people as they retreated. And Demetra helped wherever she was needed. It was all we could do until help - if any - hopefully arrived.

“Cassian,” I called out as I flew near him, “How are your shields holding?”

“Fine for now, but they won’t hold. Something else is trying to break through.” I hated the feeling that came with the phrase _something else_. Something unknown.

I couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped me, and I nodded. “Meet up with Rhys. I’m going to Azriel to find out if he has anything new to report.”

Cassian gave a half-smile and mock salute, “Yes, High Lady.” Then he dove for where we both last saw Rhys. I rolled my eyes. At least Cassian’s sense of teasing remained in battle. Something I had to admit I was grateful for – it meant he was at ease. At least, as much ease as he could be in given the circumstances.

I soared overhead, heading for where I saw Azriel fighting the beasts by the Sidra. As soon as I could make out the spymaster’s winged figure, I tucked my wings in and dove for where he fought on the bridge. I landed with a mighty crash and raised the Sidra over the cobblestones – creating a wall of water. The beasts shrieked and tried to force their way through, but my magic repelled them.

“What news do you have?” I asked Azriel.

He still focused on the wall of water – now surrounding the three beasts – but he replied, “I have sent my shadows inside the portals, but they have found nothing. Some have vanished completely. But these beasts are not the ones causing the rifts. There is something much more powerful they are still in search of.”

My heart sank. Cauldron damn it all.

“Very well. Just keep searching,” I said as I readied my steel, “I’ll take care of these ones. Go find Rhys and Cassian, and we’ll all rendezvous at the House of Wind to discuss our next move.”

Azriel nodded his confirmation and spread his wings. But before he could get air bound –

“Azriel!” I called out. He simply looked at me over his shoulder, awaiting my order. So I spoke the one thing I didn't want to: “Have Demetra help you.”

He knew it was something I wanted to avoid – as Demetra was still only his apprentice, and my daughter – but he nodded. “As you wish, High Lady.” And with a hefty flap of his wings, he was gone.

I turned back to the creatures still trying to claw their way through the water. The cries they unleashed were ear-piercing and not silenced by the wall of between us. They could have been a mangled human, what with their sunken eyes and pointed teeth; but if that was ever so, their humanity was long gone.

I dropped three sides of the box that I confined them to, forming them into three massive wolves at my side. I was beginning to feel the strain of my power – like tethers to where all my magic was needed, all on the verge of snapping. This had to let up soon. But for now, I would fight – for my family and for my city.

The beasts lunged at me in unison, but I had two of my wolves upon them as I took on the third. Horrible claws lashed at me from lanky limbs, each deflected with magic and steel. Black gore sprayed where I sliced open the beast’s leathery skin. Behind it, its two cohorts were being devoured by my wolves – turning the water a sickly black that bled onto the stones.

The monstrosity certainly wasn’t skilled, as it lashed at me with an animal like hunger, but it was fast. I barely moved and dodged in time before it was recovered and attacking again. But with no skill came sloppiness.

I sliced one of its arms off in a clean sweep, then kicked the beast back for a moment of reprieve. Corrupted blood oozed from the gaping wound, coating the cobblestones. By the Cauldron, it smelled horrible. And the cries the thing emitted were soul-shattering.

Before the thing could lunge again, my last water-wolf enveloped the creature – where I froze it solid and shattered it with the hilt of my sword. Ice meddled with black gore scattered across the bridge as I again took to the skies, letting the water-wall fall back into the Sidra with my wolves. Some of the stress eased as less of my magic was used, but I could still feel the fatigue creeping up on my bones like a frost.

_Rhys, have you received word from Lei or Mor?_ I flew for the House of Wind, hoping that the three males were already there or heading there, as well.

_Leirus says that most citizens are in the library now. Those who couldn’t make it are holed up in the Rainbow with Nesta. Or…_ He trailed off, and I knew why. Casualties were something we couldn’t avoid no matter how hard we tried.

_Did Az and Cas find you?_ I asked, more to change the subject.

_Yes. We just finished off the last horde that made it through. We fly for the House now._

_Good. I will be there by the time you arrive._ Then that mental bridge went silent between us.

My wings caught a draft, smoothing my landing on top of the House of Wind. Then I peered over the side to look for the three winged figures that no doubt flew towards me. Twilight was beginning to settle over the city, and some part of me was sick at the thought that the stars would bear witness to such monstrosities. The purest part of our court…

Heavy landings sounded behind me, jostling me from my melancholy thoughts. I turned to see the males I had been – absentmindedly – looking for.

“Jumpy,” Rhys teased, “You didn’t see us coming?”

“No, I was looking for other things,” I lied, “And I’m so glad you two bastards are in the teasing mood while our city is ransacked.” I intended it as a joking jab, but there was a bite in my tone that had Rhys and Cassian looking sorry. Even Azriel looked ashamed.

My expression softened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t –”

Another thundering crack shook the mountain and had all of us looking to the portals. Both were fluctuating – no. Only _expanding_. They grew and grew, faster than Cassian and Azriel’s shields could keep up.

“What do we do? Those things are going to get out!” I screeched. Panic was setting in. These portals were lasting longer than any other we’d encountered, and they only brought more of those wretched things. Now they were _growing_ –

Night caressed the mental shield of my mind. “Feyre,” Rhys said as he stood in front of me, blocking my view of the portals. “Everything will be alright.”

I knew he didn’t fully believe it himself, but it was enough to give me some of my strength. No matter what came, we would face it together.

We all looked back to the darkening sky, readying our steels and getting ready to take to the skies to fight the coming hordes. Rhys and I sent Leirus and Demetra a message that we loved them and to be safe – that we would see them by the end of this. We sent out to Mor and Amren to help protect Velaris, no matter the cost. And I told my sisters personally that I loved them, too.

The beasts continued to claw at the barriers, until the portals grew beyond the confines of the Syphon shields and –

Imploded. They just shrunk into nothingness, taking the monsters with them. The only thing left where the rifts once were was a starry night sky as Cassian and Azriel’s magic faded away, too.

“That can’t be it. Something doesn’t feel right,” Rhys said cautiously as he scanned the stars. His blade was still at the ready, and I could feel his power pulsating – waiting to be unleashed. “Stay alert.”

So we did, and we sent out messages on the wind telling the others to stay wary as well. Then there was movement on the horizon, and we all poised ourselves to strike.

But a calming wave of shadows washed over us, and we knew it wasn’t a threat. I smelled the citrus carried on my daughter’s scent as she drifted toward us with her Illyrian wings, landing with utmost grace.

“I heard your message,” she stammered, clearly out of breath as if she had flown as fast as she could to get here, “But I had information to share – something I thought all of you should know.”

We gathered closer. “What is it?” I asked, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. I looked into her eyes and nodded. _It’s alright, little shadow._

She took another deep breath and nodded. “Some of my shadows were able to return. They tell me that the portals don’t originate from Prythian. They’re being opened from another place we’ve never seen. A world of ruin.”

We all exchange concerned glances. It seemed obvious, but none of us wanted it to be true.

“You’re certain?” Rhys insisted. Demetra confirmed it with a curt nod – a nod to her High Lord, not her father. “Were they able to find the one responsible for them?”

“No. Unless Uncle Az’s shadows found something mine didn’t.” We all turned to the spymaster.

“Mine found nothing or no one,” Azriel admitted. He seemed…upset, in a way. And everyone noticed, too.

“What is it, Az?” Cassian asked, his brow furrowed deeply as he studied his brother’s face.

“It’s nothing to be concerned about. I’m just disappointed that I didn’t think to check the origins of the portals, as well. What you did, Demetra, was smart and may have given us a slight better understanding of what we’re dealing with.” I noticed the small smile of appreciation that Demi gave to Azriel. A thank you from the pupil to the teacher. It made my heart swell with pride.

Rhys was the one to step forward and clapped the Shadowsinger on the shoulder. “Brother,” he said, “You did more than enough. Without you or Cassian – or any of you – the damage would be far more severe than it is. Velaris still stands and fights because of your efforts.”

“Agreed,” Cassian chimed in, and I echoed it. Azriel relaxed considerably given the situation.

The night remained quiet, save for the Sidra and the sea in the distance. Too quiet for a beautiful, clear night like this. I hated that stillness in my City of Dreams. I wanted to hear bustling streets and laughter from Rita’s. But the stillness persisted, becoming deafening in its own way. And though all seemed over with, for now, none of us moved.

“What are we waiting for?” Demetra asked. I don’t think even Rhys knew. Maybe he was thinking the same thing I did about the stillness. It was one we never wanted to see again after Hybern.

But Rhys didn’t have to answer. There was no deafening crack this time as a portal opened up behind us, but the smell of rot and decay on a preternatural wind. All of us instantly whirled, our steel blades and magic ready to strike at whatever came through. We would hold this line, no matter what.

_Leirus, tell the others that we are all okay, but another portal has opened atop the House of Wind. Stay where you are and protect our people._ I shot the message down the small bond connecting me to my son and slammed my mental shield closed.

Then a tall, male figure stepped through the portal, followed by a woman with eyes and hair of pure white. The fire that enveloped her made her glisten like a star. Her gaze was filled with cold rage and hate. Whoever these beings were, they were ancient and powerful.

The male raised his hands – not out of innocence or to show he meant no harm – but to ready them, as if a weapon or magic was at his beck and call. “Now, now. This will go smoothly if you cooperate. If not, I’ve got plenty more of my friends to come help,” he stated with an obnoxious arrogance.

“Where is the Nameless Queen?” The cold woman asked, seemingly ignoring the male's threats. Her nostrils flared slightly, and her cold flames grew in size.

“What are you talking about? There are no queens in this land, only in the Mortal Kingdoms,” Rhys said coolly, but with his weapons still at the ready.

“Do not lie to me, _boy_ ,” she spat, “The Queen of Fire, that Bitch Who Was Promised, where _IS SHE_?” With her last shriek of rage, that moon-like fire grew even more. I realized it was cold – so cold that I knew it would burn if we touched it. She stalked one step closer. “Tell me now, or I will melt you all where you stand.”

“You’re fucking delusional,” I snapped, “There are no queens here, like my mate said, and the mortals don’t possess magic. The only female here that has such magic –” I enveloped myself and my blade in scorching flame – “Is me.”

The woman gave a wicked smile and barked a cruel laugh. “You stupid child. You dare challenge me?” She seethed, and dared another step forward, “You’re all weak and pathetic. Even if you don’t harbor the wench that damned me and my own, I will kill you anyway and continue on my search until I’ve ravaged every last damned world!”

Hell erupted. The woman leapt forward, and her moonfire clashed against my wildfire. But this being didn’t know who she dealt with. Neither of them did.

Cassian and Azriel fought the man, even going so far as to rid themselves of two of their Syphons. I saw their steel blades clash against an inky magic I had never seen – as if the man used the portals as weapons. Rhys and Demetra helped me – night and shadows darting towards her like arrows. But where they met that glistening fire, they turned to ash.

I wanted to scream for Demetra to leave. This woman – these things – they felt even older than Rhys. Maybe even older than Amren. But I didn’t want them to know that Demetra was my weakness, or that she wasn’t as skilled as the rest of us. I had to stay strong and hope my daughter could do so as well.

_Make an opening in her flames_ , I heard Rhys say in my mind. I didn’t dare a glance at him – not as the woman kept coming and throwing her flames at us relentlessly. I just had to trust him and trust that his plan would work, whatever it was.

Time seemed to slow, and like a dance, I waited for the woman to lunge. Once she did, I sliced towards her – relying on her to feint as she had been. And when she did, my steel encased in wildfire cut through her cold flames, leaving a small opening. Rhys took the chance.

The woman didn’t scream. She didn’t so much as flinch as the High Lord of the Night Court seized her mind and shattered it without a second thought. Her flames extinguished and her body fell to the earth with a thud.

Cassian and Azriel still fought the man – who visibly paled at the sight of his dead companion. He scrambled back, running from the severely pissed off Illyrian males who sauntered towards him – like lions toying with their meal.

He bound to his feet and threw open a portal to that same world of death and ran for it. We pursued.

_Something is blocking his mind. I can’t get in._ Rhys said to me. Indeed, when I peaked in, the same inky blackness coated his conscience. When prodded, it rippled, and nearly sucked you in.

Instead, we shot what we had at him: night, shadows, and fire coalescing into a deadly projectile aiming right for him. And again, time slowed.

The man dove for his portal, the orb of magic still aiming for him with deadly precision.

He whirled, mid-fall, and thrusted his magic forward – not as a fighting blow, we all realized, but as another portal.

And we all realized too late, as we ran straight inside, both portals snapping instantly closed.


	4. Panic & Parties

**_Feyre_ **

Falling. We were falling too quickly to even comprehend what the hell had just happened.

Worlds upon worlds raced by me as I fell end over end – my stomach in my throat. Worlds of scorching hot deserts; lands made of ice and snow; darkness so thick, it made you feel as though you didn’t exist at all.

“ _RHYS!_ ” I shrieked over the wind. I found his hand and clung to it for dear life. I briefly saw Cassian grab Demetra before I had to slam my eyes closed. The wind was too much and my eyes blurred incessantly. I could only hope that Azriel was nearby.

_Grab ahold of the others. I’m going to try to slow us down._ Even though he spoke in my head, the roaring of the wind was deafening and nearly drowned him out.

_How?_ I knew we had to stop, but we were plummeting too quickly to spread our wings. They would likely break or maybe even get torn clean off – I wasn’t sure honestly.

_There’s no time for talking or planning! Please, just do as I ask!_ I barely peeked through my eyelids and reached for my daughter. Once I felt armor, I yanked and pulled those two figures closer to Rhys and me.

Then darkness enveloped us. Not darkness, like from the world of the void, but night. Night from my mate. It silenced the wind around us and slowed our falling slightly.

“Where’s Uncle Azriel?” Demetra asked. She still clung to Cassian’s armor, and I was reminded of the little girl she once was – in need of protection.

“He must still be in Velaris,” Cassian replied, “I know he’s okay, Dem.” I met the commander’s eyes. He didn’t believe his own statement – not entirely.

“All of you, hold on to each other and get ready to fly,” Rhys demanded, “The only way we’re getting out of here is if we break the cycle by getting out of the portal.”

All of us spread our wings, preparing to do as he said, but Cassian asked, “How do you know that will work?”

“I don’t,” Rhys confessed, and my heart sank slightly, “But it’s worth trying.”

We all nodded then linked arms. Then we beat our wings as best we could. Leathery membrane and claws scraped on one another due to the close proximity at which we flew, but we didn’t stop. We pushed and pushed against the wind and the portals, until –

We broke from the inky magic and were thrusted into an open sky. Our arms detached from one another as we prepared to catch ourselves, but the tree line met us much faster than anticipated. None of us had time to open our wings before we collided with the tall trees.

Pine needles and branches scraped my face, arms, and wings as I tried to catch myself on something – anything – but to no avail. Twigs and branches whizzed and snapped in my wake. Then I hit a tree trunk with an awful crack and fell to the earth below. The breath was knocked from my lungs and my head hit the ground with a thud.

My vision blurred and my ears rang. I felt my consciousness fading as I gazed up through the trees. The world spun, but before darkness fully crept in…I was thankful to the Mother that I saw the moon and stars.

* * *

**_Aelin_ **

“Aunt Aelin!” The twins had screeched in unison before engulfing the queen in a hug.

The festivities resumed after the toasts and cheering, allowing for Aelin and Rowan to greet their guests. She was beyond happy to hold the two girls in a tight embrace while Rowan chatted with Lydia, Soran, and the Lochans.

“Gods, I missed you two,” Aelin admitted whole-heartedly, “I hope you’re still giving your mother a run for her gold.” Aelin shot Manon a look over the girls’ shoulders, earning her a rather dramatic eye roll.

“As of late, no,” Rhiannon said, “Politics since Papa’s death have become more complicated.” A small cloud seemed to form over the twins’ heads, and their faces drooped.

Aelin felt for them, she truly did. Immortality promised eternal youth, but not for everyone. Sacrifice was the price to pay in the blood of those you loved. But tonight was for festivities.

“Well politics aren’t welcome in this ballroom tonight,” Aelin decreed in her mock-queenly voice, “Now go gorge yourselves on this food and bother Fenrys. He’s in need of some torment.” She winked at them, and they gave her a joking salute in return. Then they were off to fill their plates and find Fenrys.

Aelin turned to the Crochan Queen at last. There was a moment of solidarity between the two queens before Aelin took Manon’s hands, and she was thankful that the witch allowed it. Though, while Manon held her head high, her eyes were on the floor.

“I know tonight is not the night for talking about him,” Aelin tried softly, “but I am here. We all are, should you ever need us.” She noticed Manon wince slightly.

But after a moment, Manon nodded. Then her burnt golden eyes met Aelin’s turquoise and gold ones. There was such a grief there – one the Queen of Terrasen hadn’t seen since the Thirteen perished all those years ago. But then it was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced by a mask Manon had no doubt trained herself to keep. Just a sliver of that cold Blackbeak she once was.

Before more could be said between them, Rowan approached the two females. “Milady. Manon,” he greeted, giving Aelin a smirk and slight bow to the other queen. Manon had sat in her chair and raised her wine-filled goblet in response – a dismissal.

Not a rude dismissal, but enough that Aelin knew that the wine and Manon would be good friends tonight. She found herself wondering if this was the first time since Dorian passed that Manon had allowed herself to be social outside of her court.

Later. Aelin decided she would talk with Manon later - whether she wanted to or not. She’d gladly take an iron nail or two for caring.

Sensing the dismissal as well, Rowan focused back on his queen. “May I have this dance?” He held his hand out.

“Do you have to ask?” Aelin smiled and took her mate’s hand. It was warm and sturdy as he grasped her hand and led her to the dancefloor.

They came together in a waltz position before the Song of Terrasen began to play. Beautiful melodies drifted through the room as they began to twirl and step together and apart – their eyes never leaving each other’s.

Aelin knew they were mesmerizing to watch – she always made sure of it. Fire adorned the tops of the crowns they already wore, and flames lapped at her spidersilk skirts. Tonight she opted for blue flames to match the silver they both donned. A calming color all the same.

“You look beautiful tonight, Fireheart,” Rowan said softly, a smile never leaving his lips.

“I look beautiful every night,” Aelin retorted, “And I suppose you clean up well yourself, King.” Rowan chuckled.

She could tease all she wanted - it never changed how she loved this male before her. And Gods, did she love him with her whole heart of wildfire.

The music reached its crescendo, wherein Rowan twirled his mate – making her fire span out and twirl, too. It wouldn’t burn if it touched anyone, it was just for show. Then he dipped his queen and kissed her before bringing her back upright.

For a moment it was just them. Aelin’s true fire surrounded them, forming an orb of orange flame as they continued to kiss. Years ago, when her fire magic was much vaster, she may have worried about enveloping the ballroom in flame from this love she felt. But with her mate here to soothe her flames and rough edges, and with her magics long contained and gone, the queen allowed herself to get lost in the kiss for a few more moments, while the Song of Terrasen ended.

When the last note played, Aelin pulled away and looked once more into Rowan’s pine-green eyes. She saw the same love and adoration she always did and always would. Her mate and _carranam_ – the one whom she loved like no other; the one whom helped her walk back from darkness into the light so many times. It was that love and for this male that she celebrated this night. That their whole kingdom did – for the peace their reign promised.

The orb of fire dissipated and everyone clapped. Then the music resumed and more people came out to dance as Rowan and Aelin made their way to their chairs at the head of the table.

“Oh my Gods, that smells so _good_ ,” Aelin practically growled as she sat in her chair. A heaping plate of food was in front of her – proportions and etiquette be damned.

Rowan sat beside her, grinning like he was holding back a laugh. Aelin shot him a glare through squinted eyes. “If you say one word about being ladylike, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

He choked out a sound that could have been a laugh. “Which one? There’s at least one hundred couches in the palace.”

Aelin slapped his arm. “Keep joking, King,” she said around a bite of food, “and I’ll put a couch with the pigs.”

Rowan innocently grabbed his wine. As he went to sip, he said, “I’m sure the pigs would appreciate that anyway.”

Aelin rolled her eyes but smiled. “Then I may do it. Just for future reference.”

“As you will, milady.” Rowan began to eat.

“You’re insufferable, you buzzard.”

“Brat,” he rebutted without even looking up from his meal. Both royals were grinning from ear to ear as they continued to eat in moderate silence.

The silence, however, was short lived. A wailing cry sounded from nearly across the room. Aelin knew instantly who it was, so she dabbed her mouth clean and wiped her hands. “I’ll be back. This calls for the Queen’s attention.”

She left the table and made her way towards the source of the cries. Sure enough, she saw Aedion and Lysandra crouching by a small, golden-headed figure. Aelin didn’t announce her approach but heard the problem.

“Gavriella Evangeline,” Lysandra said sternly, “We agreed you would stay to eat and then you would go to bed.”

The girl wiped her eyes but kept a pout. “But Mommy, I want to stay here with you and – Auntie Aelin!” The girl’s sad demeanor instantly changed to that of excitement. She sprinted for the queen, who hefted her into her arms and hugged her. The young girl had a vicelike grip, but one that was always welcome – as she was often gone to Caraverre.

“So what seems to be the problem?” Aelin asked in mock-seriousness as she still held the girl. Aedion was giving her a sort of look that said, _Don’t you dare._ The queen only gave him a devious grin in response.

“Mommy and Daddy says I have to go to bed. But I didn’t even eat all my food.” The dramatics were strong as Gavriella put her pout and tears back on. Aelin taught her well.

“Well that’s just unacceptable,” Aelin said. She shifted the girl to her other arm, propping her on her hip, then looked to her cousin and his wife. They both had a desperate plea in their eyes. Aelin stifled a giggle.

“Tell you what,” the queen replied, “We’ll share some cake together, and then I’ll tuck you in personally. Deal?”

Gavriella instantly nodded her head with the enthusiasm of a child who thought she had outsmarted her parents. Aelin just winked at Lysandra and Aedion before turning and heading back towards her table.

“Now let’s get to the table. Loralei should have –”

A boom shook the windows and the very palace, which had Aelin falling to her knees with Gavriella curled into her chest. The girl screamed as another boom rocked the walls, making the chandelier sway.

People began to panic. Screams echoed out, and the hurried sound of running made for the door.

Without a second more to lose, Aelin was on her feet with Rowan and Manon next to her in a second. Aelin handed Gavriella off to her awaiting mother. “Take her to the cellar with the guests,” she demanded, her voice the full strength of a queen.

“ _EVERYONE LISTEN!_ ” Aelin bellowed. The panicked screams and cries died at the sound of the Queen of Terrasen’s voice. “Get to the cellar! Lady Lysandra and Prince Aedion will escort you.”

She nodded to Aedion, signaling for him start the lead. Her cousin nodded in return and rushed to meet the crowd. He shouted for everyone to follow him, to which people slowly started to file out of the ballroom.

Lysandra went to join her husband, but Aelin held the shifter back and said in a lowered voice, “Lys, once Gavriella and everyone is safe, get comfortable clothes and blankets for everyone. Rowan and I and the rest of the cadre will find out what that was –”

Just as the words left her mouth, another boom rattled the tables. “Go now!” Aelin shouted, and Lysandra was gone – clutching her daughter to her chest.

“I’ll go with Fenrys and the others,” Rowan chimed in, “No offense to you, Fireheart, but that dress isn’t suited for a fight and we don’t know how much time we have.”

She waved her hand with a _psh_. Then the queen used her magic to burn her skirts and spidersilk cape away – revealing a pair of pants reinforced with the shimmering material.

“A Queen is always ready for a fight,” Aelin stated. Rowan had the decency to look impressed, but not too surprised.

“Everyone with me,” she roared. Her cadre, along with Manon and her twins, fell into step behind her as they hurried for one of the small arsenals they kept in a closet nearby.

Swords, daggers and axes were strapped over their fancy and clean clothes – a sort of violent juxtaposition – and the females donned slightly better shoes than the ones they wore. Then all of them rushed for one of the many side-entrances of the palace and emerged into the night.

It was clear for it having rained earlier that day. The moon and stars were out, and nothing seemed amiss. But Aelin could feel it. She could sense something was wrong – that something didn’t _belong_.

“Rowan and Maddock, scout down the river. Tainon, search the castle grounds. Marion, go into the city and make sure everything is secure there – take the twins with you. Fenrys and Manon, with me – we’ll scout into the forest and mountains. And everyone is to look for the Rift or anything that may have come from it.” No one questioned their duties. In an instant, Rowan and Fenrys transformed into their respective animal forms, and everyone dispersed.

* * *

The forest was quiet.

Maybe that was good to some, but Aelin knew it wasn’t. A quiet forest meant that everything was hiding, even the things that played at night.

Fenrys was slightly ahead of the two queens, sniffing everything – looking with his nose for anything that stood out. Aelin knew he was close enough to hear them, but she wanted to break this silence.

“When will you go back to Adarlan?” She asked, quieter than she meant to.

“Tomorrow,” Manon quipped, “Since Dorian died, the Lords and Ladies of the country have started questioning the twins’ right to the throne – making things complicated. Us being gone longer than necessary isn't good.”

“Complicated how?” Aelin couldn’t help the concern in her voice. Both from what Manon said and how casually the queen mentioned her husband’s death. Maybe she had healed, or maybe it was a defense mechanism to talk about it so flippantly.

“They wonder if witches should be on the throne.” There was a bite from a pissed off Queen and Mother in her voice as she continued, “They argue that if a witch takes the Throne of Adarlan there will never be another male heir.”

“But witches can have sons. Yes, it’s rare, but its possible. And they don’t have a say – there is no debate. The twins are the rightful heirs to the throne.” Aelin couldn’t help the anger that filled her, as well. How ludicrous that the Lords and Ladies of Adarlan – save Xander - would try to deny the royal family their throne because they might never conceive a son.

“They’re also the heirs to the Witch Kingdom, which is another thing that makes this difficult,” Manon admitted, “I want to give one throne to each of them, but I also don’t want to separate them.”

Aelin cast her gaze down momentarily. To separate the girls would break their hearts – even if they knew they had duties to their kingdoms. The twins – who had been together since before they were even born.

“It will come to you,” Aelin finally said, “What needs to be done will come to you and the twins. Ignore the Lords and Ladies – they have no immediate say. For now, let’s focus on this. I know something is out here.”

The queens quickened their pace to catch up with Fenrys. “Anything?” Aelin asked when she met up with the white wolf.

Two blinks. _No._

She couldn’t help the sigh that heaved her shoulders. “Keep looking.”

So they did. They searched, even spanning further out from each other, but nothing. And in the Fire-Queen’s wake, life slowly began to come back to the forest. Like Mab’s crown atop her head was a beacon telling everything that it was going to be alright.

An hour into searching, Aelin wanted to call it off. Whatever came through the Rift must be hiding. Or maybe it hadn’t been the Rift at all, and just a natural earthquake. Still, something just didn’t _feel_ right. And earthquakes didn't sound or feel like damned catapult strikes.

Bargaining with herself and her aching feet, Aelin decided she they would search for another five minutes. Then they would regroup and discuss their findings – if any. Gods, she prayed someone found _something_.

Fenrys still trotted ahead, sniffing the air. Manon had fallen back slightly, but Aelin scanned everything. Nothing appeared displaced, but Aelin swore she could sense something –

Then the wind shifted, blowing Aelin’s hair back – shifting the scents of the forest. And there it was: the smell from the Rift.

Fenrys growled and got back on his haunches, ready to attack what he saw. Aelin and Manon sprinted to him atop the hill he was on. Aelin was ready. She felt sparks dance at her fingertips at the chance for a fight as she stood atop the crest of the hill, readying her blade.

But disappointment snuffed her sparks out.

Debris from the nearby trees lay scattered on the forest floor and on a fallen figure. It didn’t move, but Aelin could heart a faint heartbeat.

As the three carefully moved closer, membranous wings became clearer under the night sky – ones Aelin recognized as ones some of the things from the Rift possessed. But something was different about this beast.

“It lives,” Manon snarled, “Stick a blade in its chest and call it a night.” The witch turned and began her walk back towards the palace, leaving either Aelin or Fenrys to do it. The latter of whom had shifted back into his Fae form in a flash of light.

He started, beginning to pull his blade out, but Aelin stopped him with her arm. She took some quiet steps closer.

“Aelin, what are you doing?” Fenrys whispered in slight intemperance. Aelin ignored him and crept closer.

She didn’t smell death or rot on this being. There was remnants of the Rift, but beyond that…was it the sea she smelled? Citrus? Pine? But the pine could be from the trees the figure crashed through.

Carefully, the queen crouched down and nudged the leathery wing aside with her blade. Her eyes went wide as she clamped her hand over her mouth. Gods…Holy rutting Gods…

Seeing his queen’s surprise, Fenrys rushed to her side on light feet. Utter shock took over his features.

The wings were attached to a woman - curled awkwardly around herself. And her ears...They were peaking through her dark hair in a delicate point.

This wasn't a mere woman at all. She was Fae.


	5. Old Friends & Potential Enemies

**_Aelin_ **

“She’s breathing and alive but must have been knocked unconscious when she fell through the tree line,” Aelin observed as she scanned the broken tree branches and the scrapes all along the female’s body. Her mate and the rest of the cadre had joined them in a moment’s notice, as soon as she had sent out a flare of her magic to Rowan. He had gathered everyone else.

“Then it’s a mercy killing,” Maddock was the one to say. Aelin often noted how he seemed to have inherited his father’s pessimistic mentality on everything.

“No,” Aelin demanded, “We don’t know who she is or why she’s here.”

“Or how she got here,” Marion said, “She may be someone responsible for the Rifts that keep appearing.” And Marion inherited her mother’s quick and logical thinking, something Aelin often thanked the Gods for.

“If anything, we should take her captive and question her,” Fenrys suggested as he toed the female’s wing with his boot. She still didn’t budge. Aelin wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or not.

“If she wakes up,” Rowan said solemnly, “We’re not sure how badly her injuries are. It may be days before she wakes.”

“It’s still better than not at all,” Aelin countered, “We’ll take her to the palace dungeons. Marion, if you could bind her hands and feet with your magic. Fenrys, if you could use your magic to transport her discreetly. Take breaks as you need.”

“Don’t touch her.” A deep voice growled from behind them before anyone had so much as blinked. Everyone whirled, weapons and magics at the ready.

A tall, winged figure stood in the shadows. His scent wasn’t Fae, like the female’s, but it wasn’t human either – that much was obvious. And Aelin felt an ancient magic threatening to be unleashed. They didn’t have time to waste.

“Fenrys, now!” Aelin shouted. In an instant, the White Wolf was upon the unconscious figure and used his magics to jump as far away from them as possible.

“ _NO!_ ” The male roared before he broke through the shadows. Rowan was the one to break his attack. Their swords clashed in sparks, but the male didn’t falter. If anything, he was faster and had Rowan struggling to keep up with the slashes of his blade. He was skilled in combat, Aelin noted, and did not even glance at the magic he harbored.

But Aelin paused as she studied the male and thought back to the female that was no doubt back at the palace. Familiar. They were somehow familiar. She just couldn’t place why.

The male broke Rowan’s guard, his long hair plastered to his face from sweat and blood, before he went to take the final blow – and started gasping for air. The King stole the air from his lungs – something he could have done from the start, but Aelin knew her mate had a knack for flair, too.

The male collapsed, his eyes going wide as he clawed at his throat. His lips were already turning purple as he gasped, but no air was permitted entry. Everyone gathered round and watched him as Maddock’s magic of death bound his arms and legs. There was pleading in his eyes before he fell unconscious, his head hitting the earth with an unceremonious thud. Rowan then filled his lungs with air and ensured the male still lived.

“We’ll take him to the dungeons for questioning, as well,” the King stated, “We just might not have the luxury of Fenrys’s teleporting to help us haul him back.”

Everyone murmured and discussed what was happening and went about doing as they were ordered by Rowan. But Aelin didn’t move. She just stared at the male – was he a Fae male? For where his hair had parted, perfectly rounded ears lay upon his head. Like a human’s, but he clearly wasn’t if the wings indicated anything. And those wings were a different story.

She knew them. In some recess of her memory, the Queen of Terrasen recalled those membranous wings. But how? Yes, beings from the Rift had wings like this, but they weren’t as beautiful – even if this male’s wings were heavily scarred, more so in some places than others. Some tissue was so thick that she thought his wings must have been torn clean through at some point –

“Fireheart.” A soft voice called her back, and she met the green eyes of her mate. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, sorry,” she stammered, “I’m just tired, I guess.”

She felt a witty response coming on, even given the circumstances. And she might have even appreciated it to make light of the night.

But before they could devise further planning to transport the male back to the palace, a shadow seemed to slither into the small clearing. Everyone felt it, but Aelin saw nothing. A snake – seemingly weaving in and out of everyone, mapping them out and watching. It prodded them and tasted their magic.

Then the shadow struck like an asp – and Aelin couldn’t move as it gripped her mind.

* * *

**_Rhys_ **

The landing had been less than graceful, but I managed.

And after crashing to the ground, I rose and surveyed the land. It was cold – but not nearly as bad as Illyria could get. And the pine trees didn’t give an aura of depression. The very forest itself seemed alive, just sleeping or hiding. No doubt because of our unannounced arrival.

I still felt the mating bond between Feyre and I, and I sent my magic out to search for Cassian and Demetra. They were here, but a ways into the trees. I could only hope Azriel managed to stay behind in Velaris and didn’t end up in one of the other hellish lands we fell through. This world, at least, seemed relatively normal.

I found Feyre easily enough, with the bond tethering me to her. She lay unconscious in a bed of branches and pine needles – her hair matted with dirt and blood. Upon closer inspection, I saw the cuts and bruises that now littered her body and wings; and when I tried to move her, I felt her collar bone dislocate – earning me a less than pleased groan from her slumber. She definitely had a rougher landing than I did. I could only hope her blood would speed her healing process.

I gently leaned her against an opposite oak tree to get her out of the bed of pine needles. _I don’t know if you can hear me, Feyre darling_ , I whispered into her mind, _But I’m going to set your collar bone. It’s not going to feel pleasant._

And without delay, I pushed the bone into place. Feyre cried out but didn’t open her eyes. She seemed to be in and out, which I thanked the Mother for briefly. I could tell from setting the bone that it was broken on top of being dislocated. I needed to find her help, if there was any person or being in this land that was willing to give it.

I hefted my mate into my arms and began following my magics to where I sensed my daughter and brother. Their presences became stronger bit by bit as I neared them, and I sent another quick thanks to the Mother that they were alive, too.

I opted to walk, as my wings stung from the many cuts they endured. And I admit that the forest was peaceful, and nothing struck me as dangerous. I imagine there would be wolves here, but everything was quiet – save for a creek or river flowing nearby. Could this be a humane and civilized world apart from our own? I could only hope.

I walked for an hour, it seemed, as the moon dipped further into the sky. Feyre still did not wake. If she didn’t wake soon, she may have hit her head harder than I thought. I would need to find help quick.

Eventually, I was nearly upon Demetra and Cassian. They were a few hundred meters away, and it felt as though Cassian were moving nearer to Demi. I quickened my pace, thankful that he was alright enough to move and find my daughter.

But something shifted, and my magic pinged on more beings. I felt in their minds that they weren’t beasts or animals. They were Fae – _powerful_ Fae. And there were other beings that I had not encountered in all my years, but just as sentient as their cohorts. They surrounded Demetra.

I ignored the astonishment at the fact that there were Fae in this world and broke into a run – trying not to jostle Feyre as much as I could. I couldn’t read their intentions from here. I doubt it was good. _Please, Cass_ , I called out to him, _Get to her._

I paused briefly and laid Feyre against a tree. I had to hurry, but I didn’t want to further the damage done. “I’ll be back, I promise,” I said. I kissed her head and sprinted for where Demetra was –

But then she vanished. Where I sensed her – it was gone, like she just vanished. Or someone winnowed her away.

“ _NO!_ ” I heard roared through the trees. Birds and various creatures scattered from where Cassian shouted. I just had to make it a little further. _Please Cass_.

I was close enough to hear the metal on metal of a sword fight. It was ending – someone having the upper hand. I prayed it was Cass.

I pushed until my limbs burned and sweat stung my wounds. Then I passed a tree and saw – my brother on the forest floor gasping for air. _No._

A silver-haired male stood above him, watching him intently. With how quickly Cass lost consciousness, I knew it had to be the male’s doing. He would be a big threat. And everyone behind him still scanned the forest for enemies. But they wouldn’t see me.

I didn’t bother listening to their various conversations, not as I sent my daemati magic forth – scanning each of them. All of their minds were unguarded – likely because they hadn’t needed to form mental shields to protect against the likes of me.

I tasted all of their magic and dipped into all of their minds, finding out their weaknesses. The silver-haired male smelled of ice and wind; all he had done was take the very air from my brother’s lungs. Three of the other Fae had dark magic that reeked of death and darkness. It was one I had never seen, but identical – siblings. Then lastly, four females – one Fae, and the other three another kind of supernatural being. Magic stirred in their blood, but not one that could be harnessed.

It didn’t matter, though. None of them would get the chance to use their magics on me. I struck – and seized every single one of their minds, but let their tongues stay loose.

“What the hell is this?” One snapped – a white haired woman with golden eyes.

“I can’t – I can’t _move_!” Another, younger female shrieked.

“I can’t use my magic,” her brother grunted. They all fought needlessly against my restraints as I finally broke into the clearing, demanding their full attention. I scraped my claws against their delicate minds, causing every breath to hitch and every heartbeat to accelerate. They all went quiet, and I smelled their fear. They knew instinctively what I could do.

“None of you will be taking my Commander anywhere,” I drawled in my High Lord voice, having shifted into my velvet clothes over my leathers. The High Lord of Nightmares. “Now where have you taken my daughter?”

I steeled my eyes and glared at them all. They all looked terrified or pissed off or both. All except the golden-haired woman, who seemed to stare at me in shock. I narrowed my eyes.

“You,” I snapped to the gawking female, “Tell me. Now.”

“Leave her alone, you prick,” the silver-haired male spat. I took his ability to speak.

“You are hardly in the position to speak to me like that,” I said coolly, but gripped his mind harder. He had the sense to look slightly more terrified. “With what you did to my Commander, you’re lucky I don’t turn your mind to liquid. Just reduce you to a shell and take everything from you. I just may as an example of what happens to those who cross me –”

“Wait! Please don’t!” I turned, my grip on the male’s mind slightly loosening. The golden-haired female was the one who spoke. “We’ll give you what you want, just please don’t kill him.”

She begged sincerely, but the ring of gold in her turquoise eyes held a blazing fire. She was a fighter but loved her comrades – especially this male. Her _mate_ , I quickly realized. Briefly I thought of my own, who lay mere meters back into the forest horribly injured. Reading the female’s face, I know she saw something beneath my mask telling her I knew just what her terror felt like.

This female – she would do anything for these people; I could read it in her face alone. I didn’t have to scour her mind for the truth to tell that. And with that kind of loyalty…perhaps she could help me.

“Very well,” I said at last, “I won’t kill him. But why should I trust you?”

Her eyes glistened with knowing, like she could read me like a book. “If we try anything, you can kill us,” she vowed, “But I swear to you, on my kingdom, that we will not raise a weapon against you. I’ll personally handle anyone who does.” I saw her glance and at everyone. A silent order from a supposed Queen to back off.

No one’s emotions changed. There was disbelief, but acceptance from everyone – even if it was hesitant. Even the white-haired woman silently agreed to her friend’s request.

And in the end, I truly didn’t have an option. Feyre could be dying, for all I knew. I needed these people’s help. And I wasn’t too proud to admit that.

“Fine.” And I released their minds.

* * *

**_Aelin_ **

No one moved a muscle once that vice was released from their minds – only slight sighs of relief. Aelin knew no one in the cadre could go against her direct orders, but she could only hope Manon would follow her lead. Judging by the Witch Queen’s look, she would follow along unless it proved dangerous to her witchlings again.

Aelin gave Manon a grateful nod, then turned back to the gorgeous male. He had had wings the last time she saw him – when she had collapsed through world after world all those years ago. It was this male who saved her life by slowing her down enough so that she might land safely back in her body. He was the reason those membranous wings had looked so familiar.

How exactly he got here in Erilea was a conversation for later.

“What is it you want?” Aelin asked, all the voice of a Queen in a negotiation.

Again, she saw a flicker of emotion like the one moments before. Emotion he was trying to hide behind this cocksure attitude. But having a cocksure attitude of her own, she could see the tells and cracks in his mask.

“Like I said, I want to know where my daughter is. And I want to know where we are.” He scanned the forest, and briefly glared at Rowan. “What did you do to my Commander?” He demanded.

“He’s only comatose. He’ll wake up again within the hour,” Rowan replied, coating his tone in ice. Dear Gods, this rivalry was already getting on her nerves.

“Your daughter,” Aelin chimed in, reverting the attention back to the subject at hand, “is at my palace. We’ll take you there with your Commander. Is there anything else?”

She was prying for that hint of emotion, and she knew he knew. He cracked, but briefly. “My wife is injured. I don’t know how severely, but she will need a healer soon.” Then that kernel of emotion was gone.

“Well lucky for you, two of the finest healers in Erilea are at the castle. They will be able to help you all.” Rowan was glaring daggers at her. He was practically waving a sign that said: _Don’t Trust Them!_

The queen knew a lecture would come later.

“How –”

“ – do you know it’s not a trap or that I won’t go back on my word?” Aelin interrupted. The male nodded. “Like I said, I swear on my kingdom that I won’t. You seem more than capable of killing us if I’m lying. Hell, with your mind tricks, you could have probably sensed if I was lying.”

The male considered briefly before giving one, curt nod. He said, “Very well. I’ll go get her.”

* * *

“What the hell was that?” Rowan growled as he slammed their bedroom door. She knew he wouldn’t wait to have this conversation, but Gods she was tired.

It had taken a few hours getting the male and his group accommodated in bedrooms. It had been an even weirder experience waking Lydia and Soran, asking them to help heal these beings from the Rift. It was only moments ago that Aelin and Rowan broke away after asking the cadre – including Aedion and Lysandra – to take shifts watching their new _guests_.

Of course, Aedion agreed with Rowan that it was a bad idea; and she knew deep down that Lysandra thought the same way even if she voiced her support for the queen. But none of them knew exactly why the queen did what she did. They didn’t know the gratitude she felt for that male of night who had helped her come home. _That_ was another conversation she wasn’t sure how she was going to explain, or even if she had all her facts straight.

But when she had saw the male’s wife, she recognized her as the female that had been beside him all those years ago. Of course, she wasn’t pregnant anymore, but the face was unmistakable. It was obvious they didn’t recognize her, though.

“I didn’t see another option, did you?” Aelin insisted, her annoyance matching his. “He was going to kill you Rowan. Fucking _kill_ you. I did what I had to.”

“But you saw his power! _Both_ of the males’ power,” Rowan bit back. She hadn’t seen him this mad at her in a long time. “They are not of this world, and their abilities are ones even I haven’t seen. Never in my life have I been stripped of my every sense by seemingly nothing!”

“Neither have I, but these people…I just know they’re different. They are not the beasts we’ve been killing.” Aelin placed her crown atop the vanity and kicked of her boots.

“How do you know? How do you know that they aren’t the ones causing the Rifts?” Rowan didn’t move to get out of his fighting gear. Gods, she hoped he didn’t sleep like that – if he deigned to sleep at all.

“I just know, Rowan, okay? Please,” she begged, and she let her emotions show through as her weariness and memories weighed on her, “Just trust me.”

In the past, she had given him many reasons not to. So many deceits and plans she never told him until they were executed. But it never stopped the King from trusting his mate implicitly. And it showed as his features softened.

With a sigh, he unbuckled his sword from around his waist and set it in a nearby armchair. He kicked off his boots and crossed the room, stopping to give his wife a kiss on the forehead – right where the Nameless mark once burned.

“Okay, Fireheart. I trust you,” he said softly. And the King and Queen of Terrasen didn’t bother changing their clothes before they collapsed onto their bed – falling into a deep sleep as the sun began to rise.


	6. Hope for a Lead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for the long hiatus, but thank you all for the kind words and encouragement. I am doing well, I just lost the inspiration to write for a little while.
> 
> I'm hoping to get back into a semi-normal writing schedule again, so I'll be updating more frequently. :)
> 
> Here's a little chapter (like a 5.5) just to give you some content until the next update. Happy reading!

**_Leirus_ **

One second they were all there, then the next only Uncle Azriel remained.

My parents. Uncle Cassian. Demi…They all disappeared as if they never even existed – their presences in the physical world just vanishing. But they’re not dead, I know it. I _feel_ it. I just hope I’m not a fool.

“Two beings attacked us,” Uncle Az had explained after I had flown to the House of Wind, “But they were not like the beasts. They were sentient and looking for a woman. It seems like they are on a vengeance mission.” He went on to describe them – powerful, but not powerful enough as my mother and father were able to cut the woman down. But maybe even that had been a stroke of luck.

“The man portaled away and cast the others into one as well. Luckily, I was able to hold myself back before I was taken.” The gaunt look on my uncle’s face told me he regretted it, at least a little, that he had not followed. As if he could have helped somehow if he had joined them in their unknown fate.

“You fought well,” was all I could think to say. I was never one for peppy or comforting speeches, which was nightmarish considering I am to be High Lord someday. “For now,” I continued, “We should try to get Aunt Mor and Amren up here to hold a meeting. To discuss our next move or a plan – if any.”

Azriel nodded before taking to the skies to get Amren. Mor was still away in other courts even though I sent out a message saying all was clear. She insisted on getting some sentries and help from the other courts, as well as sending out some of the Illyrians for aid in return.

In a few moments, Azriel returned with the small female cradled in his arms. They landed and she gracefully went to her feet.

“Aunt Mor will return shortly,” I said, “She’s still requesting help as well as arranging for the Illyrians to aid the other courts in return. When she does get back is when we’ll hold a meeting. I want Nesta and Elain there as well. Varian and Emerie are welcome, too. We will need all the possible answers we can get.” Both merely nodded in answer.

I turn towards the lifeless woman behind us. “What do we do with the body?”

It’s an uncomfortable question – one I never thought I’d have to ask despite my immense military training. But we can’t leave her here to rot in the sun.

“We could keep it for studying or collateral in case the beings return for her,” Az suggests.

“No.” Amren says sharply, her voice laced with something I can’t place. Both Uncle Az and I look at her in astonishment – her eyes still fixed on the corpse. Then she looks at us and I’m taken aback so suddenly I do almost take a physical step back.

Fear – as plain as day. There is fear in those silver eyes. Something I never thought I’d see in Amren for as long as I lived. And in that look alone, I know there’s something she hasn’t said.

I hope to hear what it is, but her next words are simply: “Burn it.”

I don’t question, and Uncle Az looks inclined to follow my lead – even if it’s not the smartest course of action. I tell him to grab a torch from one of the sconces, and he does so without second thought. The body burns in a sickly smell of burnt hair and flesh. We should have made a pyre of some kind, but I knew Amren wanted it done now. We would have to burn the rest later.

“Now take my back to the library,” Amren demanded, “When Morrigan returns, we’ll have the meeting, but don’t call for me until then unless it’s important.”

So Azriel took her back to the library so she could continue with her searches and readings, and I was left with the smoldering corpse. I think of finishing the job, but I can’t find it in myself to move from my spot as I stare at the rock where my family disappeared.

I can’t be the last one alive. They can’t be dead or gone forever into some other dimension. They just _can’t_. I feel it in my very bones that they are still out there somewhere – that they are safe.

My head reels from today’s events so badly that I sit against a rock. Since my mother and father are gone, I am High Lord until they return. I refuse to acknowledge the _if_ that grinds against my skull. They will return – I’ll be sure of it. For it may seem hopeless now, I tell myself, but we have leads even if they are small.

Aunt Elain, who is a Seer - she may be able to see them or a future where they come back. I hold that hope in my heart. And Amren – who knows more than she’s let on – reading the Book of Breathings to hopefully decipher more of the ancient texts. There is hope – there is always hope. I just have to maintain a strong front for my remaining family and my court.

And there is one more hope, even if it is trivial. The Suriel. It was an ancient fae, a knower of all things, that my mother knew before I was born. But it was wounded and died in her arms during the War with Hybern. I just…what if there were more of them? Perhaps not the Suriel, but something like it – a knower of all things. If I could find something or someone like that, then maybe I could get the answer to rescuing my family.

So I rise from my spot atop the mountain and launch into the sky. It takes me some time, but I build a suitable pyre – one that will actually disintegrate the woman – as I think of the places I could find a fae like the one I was named for.


	7. Omens & Dreams

**_Feyre_ **

_“You’ll regret what you have done,” a feminine voice seethes from the fog around me. Or is it smoke?_

_I reach for my magics and weapons – only to find them gone. Even my magics are unreachable, like they were never even there._

_A mocking laugh from beyond the wisps of gray. “Oh, what’s wrong_ High Lady _?” The woman spits my title in mockery, “Are you missing something?”_

_I want to scream, to fight, to call her a coward for talking so brazenly from a safe distance. But nothing comes – as if I’m robbed of every basic function except for breathing._

_“Well, it’s too be expected,” she continues, and I see a shape forming in front of me, “After all, you said so yourself that mortals don’t possess magic.”_

_Panic settles along with what this woman has just told me, and I reach up instinctively to feel the shape of my ear. My stomach drops as I feel a gentle curve rather than a point. No._ No. _That’s not possible –_

_The woman in the smoke finally steps forward and my would-be words get caught in my throat. It’s the woman of moonfire. The one Rhys and I –_

_“Killed? Foolish girl,” she laughs at my thought, “You killed a puppet – a mere guise that gave me a physical body. But I really don’t owe you an explanation.”_

_She circles around me, closing in slowly, the fog-smoke following her pale robes. Where the tendrils brush my skin, it stings and burns, but I can’t scream. I can’t call for help as she stops in front of me – immortal hatred burning in her glowing blue eyes._

_I haven’t felt this sort of mortal terror in over sixty years. It’s a feeling of helplessness I thought I was guaranteed to never feel again – one that my being Fae took. But I feared this woman, and I feared what she planned to do to me._

_“Now,” she says, almost sweetly, “It’s my turn.” And the smoke envelops me, coating my skin in burning frost._

_My mouth opens in an agonized scream, but no sound escapes. The woman just watches with a wicked grin spread across her face, reveling in the torture._

_So cold…so cold that it_ burns _. Mother, Cauldron help me. Please._

_Darkness starts to creep in, and I fall to my knees._

Rhys, please. _I beg and plead, searching for the magical bond between us. Nothing. Only the cold woman answers with sick admiration at my suffering._

Rhys, please. _Rhys. Rhys –_

**~ ~ ~**

“Feyre!”

I jolt upwards and instantly regret it as pain shoots through my very being. A soft but firm hand rests on my shoulder, grounding me but easing me back into a laying position.

“It’s okay,” Rhys says in his soothing, midnight voice, “I am here.”

And I lose it. As I see him sitting on the bedside before me, and feel the pain racking my body, I start to sob – tears flowing freely. “Rhys,” I say as a sort of confirmation, my lips wobbling.

“Yes, darling. I’m here. We’re alright,” he whispers. He gently shushes me as he pets my hair soothingly. “What were you dreaming about?”

As if that question triggered a dark memory, my hand shoots to my ear to feel the shape – and my finger traces a delicate point. Fae. I am still Fae.

“Feyre?” Rhys tries again, still gentle, “If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. You just started crying my name, and I got worried about you.”

My face is still wet with tears, but no more flow. I take a soothing breath, and thrice more. I am okay. I am here, and I am not broken.

“That woman,” I say, my voice crackly and hoarse. Rhys hands me a cup of water and I sip appreciatively before continuing, “The woman we killed in Velaris. She appeared in my dreams. And she…”

I choked on the words. Maybe it was conceited of me – especially given my birthright – but I was terrified of being mortal again. “She took my powers. She took my very self-will. I was mortal again, Rhys. I had nothing –”

He laid next to me and wrapped me in his arms as I started to cry again – recounting the entire dream, and how it had seemed all to real. I hoped to the Mother that it wasn’t, and what she said about her guise was even less true.

“It was a dream,” Rhys reassured me after I told him the entirety of it, “We’re all stressed, and your body more so after the fall you took. It’s been a day since you last woke, but skilled healers have been through to check on you. They said you suffered a few broken bones and a severe concussion, but because of your blood you’ve started to heal wonderfully. Everything is alright, darling.”

He kisses my forehead, and I can’t help relaxing into him. He is my haven and my safety. Then I realize what he said: healers. Actual healers.

I prop myself up slightly and look around the room. We’re not in a dungeon or in the middle of a forest or desert or ocean. We’re in a lavish room colored in hues of silver and green. I lie in a down-stuffed bed, and a gentle, pine-kissed breeze blows through the gossamer curtains. Not Velaris, or even Prythian I quickly realize, but it’s safe. An inhabitable world other than our own.

Sensing my confusion and awe, Rhys says, “I came across a group of…people, for lack of a better word, after we crash-landed. After a tense verbal altercation, they agreed to help us. Nothing has seemed amiss so far, though the supposed King of this land doesn’t trust us. Nor does the Queen’s cousin. I can’t say that I fully trust them either, though. Their healers are kind enough – a mortal woman and her son – and both extremely gifted in magic.”

I’m sure the confusion only grows on my face, but my head hurts too much to question further. Rhys probably can’t even explain my questions to me.

“Just rest, darling,” Rhys says, “I’ve already discussed an official meeting when you’re feeling up to it – and not a moment sooner.” He cuts me off, sensing my objection that I’m ready now – even though I’m very much _not_.

I sigh but settle back into the lush pillows. “Fine,” I concede, “But I am hungry. And I want to see Demi and Cass.”

A shadow crosses Rhys’s face, but he tries to hide it. “Cass is up and about, keeping guard in the wing of this palace we’ve been assigned. But Dem…she has yet to wake up. The healers have been checking on her as well, but they believe her trauma was worse than even yours.”

My heart sinks. It’s something I never want to hear as a mother, even if I knew injuries happen in battle. “I want to see her,” I demand.

“And you will but later, my love. I promise. Her room is just across the hallway, so we’ll be able to walk over there after you’ve eaten and gotten accustomed to being awake again.”

I can’t argue with his logic, and I can’t afford to worry right now. Especially if we’re in a foreign world amongst foreign people we don’t know the intentions of. Then there’s the matter of the world-walkers and the moonfire woman, but we may never get the whole explanation for them.

I take a deep breath, exhaling loudly through my mouth, as I shift onto the pillows again. Rhys rises and grabs a tray of food I hadn’t noticed earlier. “It’s likely cold by now, but I’m sure you can handle that.” He winks as he balances the tray in front of me.

A plate piled with seasoned meats and gravies and vegetables sits next to a cup of broth. A goblet yields sweet juice, and my water cup sits by it. My stomach lurches with hunger, and I don’t care to heat the food with my fire magic as Rhys suggested before I start to gorge myself. And I can’t help but notice that it doesn’t taste of ash or dirt as human food does.


End file.
